


More Than a Muse

by WordsmithMusings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Artist Draco Malfoy, Draco has dreams, Draco has lingering Daddy Issues, Established Relationship, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Mentions of Anxiety, Mentions of Therapy, Minor Lucius Malfoy Bashing, PWP, glossing over PTSD/past trauma, glossing over praise kink, supportive hermione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25917445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsmithMusings/pseuds/WordsmithMusings
Summary: Draco longs to spend his days making art, but thanks to lingering issues from his father, hides away his gift. What happens when his girlfriend Hermione discovers the truth about her boyfriend's artistic nature? How does she help him unlock his potential and embrace the talent within?Original Prompt: Artist.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 169





	More Than a Muse

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally inspired by the Career Day FlashFic challenge from the DA over on Discord. When I went to transfer the story from paper to Docs, I quickly realized I was going to greatly exceed the word limit - so I scraped the story to save for later, and swapped my Draco artist inspiration, but I couldn't let the story go. This story was greatly inspired by this [ posted image](https://www.instagram.com/p/CBasfEQHnJd/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link) by a popular DM fancast. 
> 
> It goes without saying that it's not my sandbox, I just like playing in the sand. Grammarly is my editor and I make no money from anything.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/189254504@N02/50228711428/in/dateposted-public/)

##  More Than a Muse 

Hermione woke with a shudder and reached across the bed. She was surprised to find it cold and stretched as she heard mumbling and scribbling behind her. "Draco?"

There was no answer, only more scribbling, and movement. "Draco? What are you doing?" 

"Shhhh nothing, go back to sleep," was the rushed response. Hermione shifted to look for her boyfriend of two years. He was always secretive, it was his Slytherin upbringing after all, and while she was quite used to it by now, this felt different. 

"Draco, what time is it? You shouldn't have let me nap," she scolded, stretching her arms over her head.

"You needed the rest," he replied, "Go back to sleep." Hermione slowly rolled over in the bed and heard swearing and paper shuffling. "Go back to sleep," he hissed.

Hermione raised a brow and sat up, noting her boyfriend on the floor. His face and hands covered in black and papers scattered around him. "Draco? What's going on?" she lowered herself slowly to the floor and inched to him, noticing that he was desperately trying to hide the papers form her. As she reached out to touch him, he flinched back. Hermione paused slowly, stretched a hand out to cup his cheek tenderly, and smeared a streak of black across it. Charcoal, she noted, rubbing it absently between her fingers. "What's this?" she asked, showing him her fingers. 

Draco's head dropped, and he clutched desperately to several papers against his chest, like a child protect a prized stuffed animal from a bully. "Draco?" Hermione's voice was as soft and soothing as she could make it. "Love?" her eyes darted around the floor, and she briefly caught bits and pieces. Images hastily strewed across the paper. Draco was clutching a pencil in his hand so tightly that Hermione was afraid it might break. 

"Are you doodling?" she asked at last.

His head fell forehead, and his shoulders slumped in defeat at the simple question. It's been so long since she's seen him this way, and she felt her heart and magic stir in agony for him. "Drawing," he mumbled in a voice so low she could hardly make it out. He's not looking at her, but Hermione nodded in understanding anyways. Reaching out, she pulled a piece of random paper towards her slowly. He watched her under his lashes, his eyes tracking her movements like a caged animal ready to be beaten for doing something wrong. 

"Draco is this me?" she gasped, her eyes finally taking in the shapes and shading on the page. It's stunning in its accuracy and breathtaking in its refinement. Hermione has rarely considered herself a beauty, yet there was no other way to describe the vibrant woman on the page. Her head was thrown back in laughter, and her cheeks and eyes were bright with a smile upon her lips. Hermione remembered the moment from just a few weeks before when she had laughed at Draco fumbling over conveyor belt sushi. She hadn't meant to laugh, but he had been so confused and earnest that she couldn't help it. The moment had left her self conscious briefly. Ron had told her often that her laugh was too loud, too boisterous, but when she had met Draco with tears of joys in her eyes, he had called her radiant. 

"I was trying to get your curls right," he replied self consciously, tentatively loosening his hold on the papers in his arms. "They drive me crazy. They don't have a pattern, and there's so much depth to them. The light was so perfect, while you slept," he rushed on, "I just couldn't stop it. I needed to do it."

"It's beautiful," Hermione murmured, looking at another paper.

"You're beautiful," he breathed. 

"Where do you keep this? Why are you hiding this?" Hermione asked curiously, her eyes drifting over picture after picture. Their friends, her, their apartment.

"I -I-I," Hermione glanced up from the page she was looking at Draco's stammering. She saw the panic building on his face and climbed into his lap, wrapping herself around him as he clung to her. His body wracked with sobs. Draco hated to show emotion, and yet his magic refused to allow him to hold things in whenever Hermione was around. It was nerve-wracking and frustrating, but her magic soothed him. She caressed him in a way that brought him more comfort than he had known since he was a small child. It was a dynamic of their relationship that had caught them both unaware initially, but they had settled into quickly after several months of living together. 

"Shhhh, Draco, it's okay. It's okay." Draco shook against her, his words coming up in hiccups. Hermione strained her ears as he spoke, "My father," he hesitated, gulping down air for a moment as he tried to regain his composure. " _ Art is for sissies," _ he said finally, his voice shifting into a sneer in the perfect imitation of his father. " _ No son of mine," _ Draco continued his voice now laced with hatred and disdain, " _ will waste his time on such frivolous ways. Men don't draw. men don't create art. it's beneath a real man." _

Hermione felt her heartbreaking and wished for the umpteenth time in their short-lived relationship that she could beat the ever-loving life out of Lucius fucking Malfoy. "Draco, your father was wrong, Love. He was so so wrong." Draco snorted through a sob, and Hermione grinned as they both knew she was talking about more than just art for a moment. "Men can do anything, be anything, just like women can. We can be equals. Women can write legislation for the Wizengamot and be department heads and wives and mothers." Draco nodded, recalling the many conversations they'd had in the past, "But men too can be anything. Men can be loving fathers and giving partners and artists and bakers." She pulled back slightly and smoothed her fingers over his puffy tear strewn face. "Your work is good, Love. You're so talented. I am so proud of you. You don't need to hide this from me."

Draco pulled her closer as his hiccups subsided, "I don't deserve you." Hermione shook her head even as she cradled his head to her bosom, allowing her magic and heartbeat to soothe the man she loved. "You are worthy," she reminded him. "Say it with me, Draco. Just like Dr. Durrell taught us in therapy." Draco heaved a sigh but nodded. "I am worthy."

"I am worthy," echoed Draco.

"I am strong."

He grimaced, "I am strong."

"I am deserving," he repeated the words with a sigh. 

"I am talented." Draco paused, pulling back to meet her eyes. That wasn't one of their affirmations from therapy, he knew, but the determined look in Hermione's eyes told him she had said it purposefully. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he met her eyes. "Mi-"

"No," she replied firmly, "None of that." She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, "I am talented," she said again patiently, her brown eyes fixed intently on his. 

"I-I am talented," he breathed at last, and he felt the corners of his mouth tick upwards as she beamed at him. "Good. So good, Draco," she praised, her smile reminding him of a beam of sunlight after a stormy day, "I am so proud of you." She kissed his lips and held him tightly. "I hate your father," she told him for the 100th time, and Draco chuckled despite himself. "Seriously, Draco, he died too quickly."

"You always say that," he huffed, "And I still mean it," she replied with a grin. Draco huffed again and pulled her close, his hand weaving into her hair to angle her mouth against his. Hermione sighed into the kiss and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. Draco still kissed her with a passion that made her toes curl. She felt him hardening beneath her, and she rocked her hips against him, eliciting a moan from his lips. Draco shifted, his mouth leaving lingering kisses along her jaw. 

"Draw me again," she pleaded as her head fell back to give him better access. Draco stilled beneath her, and she brought her head down to meet his eyes. 

"What?" he asked. Hermione bit her lip. 

"Were you done?" she countered. "Done drawing me, I mean? I can crawl back into bed if you want me to - so you can finish," she added hurriedly.

"You would do that for me?" Hermione smiled at the confusion on his face. He was so adorable when he was vulnerable - not that she could ever tell him that. It made her long for a little face that looked at her the same way - with hope and adoration. Maybe with her caramel skin and his grey eyes, and a head of wild dirty blonde curls. She nodded, even as she pushed the daydream of a future, she was unsure of from her mind. "Yes, of course," she replied, running her hand through his silken locks. "I would love to. I support you, and I'm happy to pose for you - officially," she added with a wink. 

He eyed her for a moment before his gaze traveled around the room. "The lights different," he began with a frown, and Hermione leaned back slightly from his grip and closed her eyes. She brought her hands together, and wandlessly created an orb in her palm. "Here," she said, handing it to him. "Turn it," she prodded, guiding his hands over the orb in a clockwise motion," You can direct and change the light this way."

"Brilliant witch," Draco murmured, shifting his hand in one direction and then the other, watching in awe as the light changed. Hermione leaned into him, kissing him deeply before scrambling off his lap with a giggle as he attempted to wrap his arm around her. She paused for a moment at the edge of their bed, glancing over her shoulder to ensure he was watching, before lifting the jersey she was wearing over her head. She tossed it on the floor beside her with a wink, the quidditch jersey pooling at her feet obscuring everything but his name from view. Draco grinned at her and fought the urge to tackle her to the bed and make love to her. 

His brave, beautiful, sassy witch he mused watching her stretch out on their bed. The sheets rumpled behind her as her mahogany curls cascaded down her bare back. He swallowed, watching her, feeling a lump in his throat again at her beauty and heart. He meant it when he said he was unworthy of her. He'd felt it even as they reconciled their acquaintance just shortly after his trail a few years prior, but the feeling had increased tenfold from the first time their lips had met. He'd vowed on his magic then that he'd do everything in his power to be worthy of her and deserving of such a woman. 

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Draco positioned the orb with a levitation charm, maneuvering and manipulating it until it mimicked the light he had been trying to capture earlier. He shifted her hair next, taking pleasure in brushing his fingertips against her bare flesh as he did so. He heard her breath hitch slightly and smiled to himself. Bending down, he kissed her shoulder, delighting once again in the way she sucked in a breath before moving back to his position on the floor. 

The sound of scratching filled the room once again, and both of them smiled contently as the minutes passed.

Over the next few months, Hermione took Draco to museums all over England and the continent. Introducing him to a variety of famous male muggle artists and art he'd never known existed before. She delighted in watching him study different techniques and lines and discussed at length with him different mediums and styles. She spent hours in bookstores and art shops, talking ad nausea the best erasers for removing pencil lines and the difference in natural and synthetic fibers in paintbrushes with him. 

For his birthday that year, Hermione bought Draco a drawing table. With the help of Theo and Daphne, remodeled part of their converted guest room turned library to accommodate his passion with extension charms and the beginning of a studio of his own. 

"No more drawing on the floor," she whispered in his ear as he reverently touched the desk. "Save your back for other things," Hermione added with a wink. Draco pulled her in front of him, trapping her between his desk and body. "Other things," he murmured, dropping his head to her ear now, his lips nipping at the shell of her ear. "What other things did you have in mind, Hermione darling?" he whispered against her skin. Hermione moaned, her head falling back to give him better access to her neck. Draco's hands slid down and cupped her ass, lifting her easily he set her on the desk with a resolute thud. "Draco," squeaked Hermione. "Put me down." 

"Naw ungh," he replied, tracing her thighs with his hands, "You said to save my back for other things." 

"I did," she agreed with a whimper. "And it's my birthday," Draco continued, his hands shifting from her outer thigh to her inner thigh before pausing, his head snapping up to meet hers. "And it seems you forgot to put on knickers this morning." 

Hermione bit her lip as Draco's hand traced along her hips, exploring the area her panties would typically cover before she shook her head. "It is your birthday," she said, at last, meeting his eyes from beneath her lashes. 

Draco grinned at her, as his fingers found their way to her center. "It is at that." Hermione hummed in pleasure as one finger, and then another slid into her wet core. "Did you have something special planned, love?" he asked, pressing her clit with thumb. "Or were you going to wait for me to discover this little surprise of yours."

"Oh Gods," Hermione whimpered, her hand clasping around his forearm as he crooked his fingers. "Draco. I. Don't stop," she babbled incoherently, her hips bucking into his hand. "Are you going to come for me, Love? On my hand, like a good girl." Biting her lip, Hermione nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, whatever you want, Draco. Just. Please don't stop." 

Leaning forward, Draco captured her lips in a bruising kiss. "Come," he ordered, and Hermione felt her whole world shift as she did so. "Good girl," he breathed against her ear, hand slowing but not stopping as she rode out her orgasm. Undoing his trousers with his other hand, he pulled out his thick cock, the tip damp with precum. Draco pulled his hand from her, and Hermione whimpered again at the loss of contact. She moaned moments later as she watched Draco lift his hand to his lips and suck in one of the fingers that she had just come on. Hermione groaned as she watched him and gave a needy moan when he leaned forward to brush his lips against hers. "You taste so good, Granger. Would you like a taste?" Hermione nodded, guiding his hand towards her lips so she could suck seductively at the other finger. The grey in Draco's eyes turned to molten silver as he watched her. Her eyes dropped briefly, and she noted with pleasure that his other hand was stroking his cock. "Fuck me," she pleaded. 

"With pleasure," he replied, stepping closer and spreading her legs more. Draco pulled her closer to the edge of the desk before plunging into her. Hermione moaned as Draco's hips slapped against her, pushing her to the edge almost instantly. Her legs tightened around his waist as she leaned back slightly, the angle changing as she did so. Draco groaned in pleasure, and Hermione knew she'd have bruises on her hips where his hands held her firmly as he pounded into her. 

Their lips met, and she sucked on his tongue as he continued to push her body to the edge. "You feel so good," he muttered against her lips. "Don't stop," she replied, one of her hands drifting down to rub her clit. "

You're so fucking hot," he murmured, his eyes drifting to where she was touching herself. "Come with me," he begged, gripping her hips even tighter. Hermione whimpered from the pain and clung to him as he pounded even harder into her. "So close, Draco. Please." 

"That's it, love." Draco's hand left her hip and wound into her the braid along her back. Tugging tightly to expose her neck, Draco's mouth moved immediately to the skin there. He alternated sucking and grazing the sensitive skin with his teeth before laving it with his tongue. "Come for me," he ordered again. "Come with me." Hermione nodded her hand, moving vigorously against her clit as she felt her body priming for release.    
  


Draco's hips stuttered, and he gave one last bite to her neck before her name came tumbling out of his lips. Hermione's orgasm crashed over her as his hips stuttered, and she tightened around him as they shared their climax. 

"Yeah," breathed Draco, several moments later, "I think this is much better for my back." Hermione giggled involuntarily and smacked his chest before he helped her slide to her feet. "Prat." "You mispronounced Birthday boy," he told her with a wink before kissing her soundly. "Thank you for my gifts," he told her sincerely, and Hermione's heart swelled again as she told him he was quite welcome. 

***

One year, after Hermione discovered Draco sketching on the floor, she led him into the quaint gallery several blocks from their two-bedroom flat. "I have something to show you," she confessed excitedly before leading him toward the back of the gallery. Displayed on the right side of the gallery, were six pieces of Draco's art. 

"Hermione," he breathed, shock rippling through him.

"There have been offers on three of them," she replied, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. Draco swallowed thickly, his eyes drifting from his creations to the woman he loved and back again. "Truly?"

Hermione nodded, "Truly." His cheeks pinked despite himself, and his eyes welled suddenly with tears. Hermione rubbed his arm affectionately and gave him a pleased smile. "Stand here," she encouraged, moving him next to the piece that had started it all. He had painted it only a few months before, finally transforming the sketch he had created into a finished pieced. The sketch still hung in the corner of his studio space, but she had managed to slip the canvas out without his realization. 

"Smile," she told him, pulling a camera out.

"Oh, I'm sorry, no photos allowed," came a voice from behind them. "Even for the artist?" asked Hermione with a warm smile. The petite blonde that had spoken smiled broadly at them, "Oh! Mr. Malfoy! It's an honor to meet you! Your art is so moving." Draco's face flushed at her praise, and he stammered a thank you, as Hermione snapped the picture. 

"You must be his muse," the woman told her with a knowing glance between Hermione and the painting Draco had been standing next to. It was Hermione's turn to blush prettily as Draco took her hand and kissed it. "She's more than a muse. She's a work of art herself." He turned to the woman, "A woman like this is never just a muse." tHe woman gaped at them for a moment before excusing herself with a giggle and murmured, "lucky girl."

Draco pulled Hermione close as he looked upon his art on the wall of a gallery, a dream come true. This was a life he had never hoped for, and experience his father told him would never be. He kissed the top of Hermione's head with a sigh, "You're more than my muse. You are too glorious for that. You are heaven and earth. The very essence of life itself."

"Oh, so now you're a poet and an artist," she giggled, and he couldn't help but smile at her broad face. "I don't mind being your muse, though."

"It's not enough," he replied, wrapping a wayward curl around his finger with reverence. "What title would you give me then?" She asked with amusement. Draco grinned down at her, "How about Lady Malfoy, my future wife, and mother of my children?" Hermione gaped at him for several moments, her mouth opening and closing as her cheeks pinked. "I'd like that," she whispered at last, "but really, I was thinking sex goddess divine or magical enchantress."

Draco's head fell back as his laughter bounced off the walls. "As you wish," he replied at last. "Muse. Wife. Mother. Goddess Divine. Magical enchantress. Mine."

Hermione's mouth curved upward, and she nodded. "Yes. That sounds quite wonderful."

"Though we may have to abbreviate it to make it fit upon your business cards." Hermione smacked his chest with a laugh. "Prat."

"You love me," he replied, dipping his head to kiss her.

"I do," she replied. "I'm quite in love with the man you are, and even more proud of the man you've become." Draco smiled softly at her and kissed her again. "Let's go home and celebrate some more," he hummed, and Hermione found she had nothing at all left to say about that. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always welcome. Stay safe friends! xx the Wordsmith


End file.
